How to survive the Easter weekend

You might think the Easter weekend is like a more sedate Christmas – a bit more eggy, perhaps, with a larger bunny rabbit count. But Easter is actually a perilous four-day endurance test that will challenge your mind, body and soul and push you to the limit. Kind of. Here's how to beat Easter, spring's silent assassin.

Four-day weekend woes

Four days. Essentially three Saturdays and a belated Sunday, if you like. This is how Easter gets you. All that time off means only one thing – going back to work is even harder. All your pre-Easter procrastination – unanswered emails, unfinished reports, a to-do list that makes the Bible look like the limerick in a Christmas cracker – will be four times as tough to get through on that hellish Tuesday. Be good to yourself; clear as much as you can. Forget winding down and getting into holiday mode on Thursday. Work your butt off, get to inbox-zero, maybe even clean your desk. It's the workplace equivalent of getting in drunk and doing the washing up so you can wake to a clean kitchen. Don't underestimate the benefit to your mental health; you won't spend the entire Easter weekend dreading going back. Well, you will, but not as much.

Drinking

Like I say, three Saturdays. And, oh boy, do you hang loose on a Saturday. If it's decent weather, all bets are off; you'll be throwing back appletinis, pints and cocktails you made up at four in the morning at a lock-in with strangers. This sounds great, but rollover hangovers are a killer. Unless you want your Easter Monday, the last day of freedom, to be a write-off, you need to take a break. Seriously.

My tip: swerve it on Saturday night. You'll get blitzed Thursday because you're so excited about your lie-in the next day. Friday, you'll be pumped as it's your first day off. Saturday, you'll likely be a bit jaded so... stick to a takeaway and a couple of beers then bed, because on Sunday, you'll be getting trashed all day at a barbecue before you have Monday to deal with it, and maybe do some DIY. A Saturday break can't guarantee no hangover on Monday, but at least you'll break the chain. Think of your liver. And those Sandro trousers you drunk-bought online Thursday night when you got in – you'll need to fit into them for Sunday.

Inevitable Sunday lunch with the family

Ah, man. Visiting relatives at Easter. A bunch of daffs in one hand and a bottle of what they probably call "bubbles" in the other. How do you extricate yourself from all the questions, opinions on Brexit and minutiae on what distant cousins are doing out in Dubai? Take the car, say you can't drink, only stop for a bite as you have work to do, then pull a "feel sorry for me" face when they tell you work too hard. Take enough Easter eggs with you to fling at any children who might be there and kiss everyone's cheek and hightail it out of there before the roast lamb has even digested. And find yourself at...

The barbecue

"First one of the season." Sigh. Someone's always got to have one. And we go, don't we, like the obedient folks we are, because you don't want it to flop. Plus, you really need to empty your freezer of burgers and sausages you bunged in from the fridge as they were about to go off, probably from the last barbecue you went to in September. It'll be cold and windy and someone will bring a child, or non-alcoholic beer, or a new party game, or a Van Morrison CD. It will be boring for the first two hours, before mild excitement around lighting the barbecue, then when the coals go white you will be bored again until the first couple starts arguing. How do you survive this? Eat before you go. Do not wear shorts. Drink vodka. Offer to go to the shop for more. Get in a cab. Do not return.

Chocolate armageddon

Is chocolate even nice? We eat so much of it at Easter that it's impossible to tell – we just feel we should. Artisan eggs. Eggs shaped like avocados (a real thing, I saw them in Waitrose). Luxury eggs. Special seasonal variations of chocolate you wouldn't normally eat because of your ceaseless health kick, but because it's shaped like a bunny, or a chicken or, yes, an egg, all of a sudden you can't get enough of them. You nip to the newsagents in the morning and grab some Mini Eggs for "later" – five minutes later, usually – or switch out your regular americano and biscotti for a hot chocolate and a caramel-filled Galaxy egg. And society is totally OK with all of this, while your teeth are inside your head going, like, "What the hell is he doing?" Anyway, my tip here is avoid any kind of retail experience that could lead to a face-to-face with any kind of chocolate, unless you are in a hurry to develop diabetes.

Fitness first

Easter is the perfect time to head to the gym. Everyone's away or over-indulging elsewhere. Friday might still be packed with dudes desperately trying to make inroads into that beer belly before their weekend away, but Saturday and Sunday are likely to be blissfully quiet – all the more reason to stay sober(ish) on Saturday night.

Shopping hell

Do not leave the purchase of Easter eggs, chocolates, seasonal gifts or special Easter Monday outfits until the last minute. Shops actually close on Easter Sunday and, bizarrely, all eggs seem to be snapped up before. The chances of bagging a bargain on the bank holiday are actually very slim.

Travel disruption

As it's largely commuter-free, train companies tend to shut things down for engineering works. Plus all that bank holiday traffic is a quick route to a permanent stress headache. Make sure you're slicker than your average by downloading every possible traffic and transport app so you can glide through the weekend like an expert. No such thing as being a know-it-all when it gets results.